Code Name: Kayla's Fire (2 page)

CODE NAME: KAYLA’S FIRE

A Warrior’s
Challenge Book 2

Natasza Waters

Copyright © 2013

Prologue

His special lady exited Base Command, and he watched. His pulse raced
with a glimpse of her. Petty Officer Mace Callahan tossed Kayla’s bag into the
backseat of his car. They couldn’t see him, sitting in his own vehicle,
admiring her through the window of the vehicle parked next to him.

Alpha squad protected and fawned over her. Kayla was a challenge, yet
everything he longed for. He wouldn’t rush. When he slowly angled the knife
between skin and flesh, she would agree her death was just. When he was done,
her body would be a work of art.

His heart skipped, remembering how close he’d come to having her.
Because of her defiance, Kayla had slipped through his fingers. If she had
listened to Austen and remained in his house, she would have been his to carve
and teach at his leisure.

The coolness of the blade against his chest comforted him. Hidden in
the special pocket he’d sewn into the interior of his jacket, it remained his
most important tool. Like a painter’s brush, it stroked and sliced with
beautiful perfection.

Kayla jumped into the passenger seat and drew her seatbelt. So many
choices, but his heart had set itself on one extraordinary example of
femininity. The Lilith of all women. Kayla wound men around her finger, toyed
with them and no doubt, tempted them to betray their wives or girlfriends. A
shining example of treachery. Her aloof attitude made his blood boil. She
needed his discipline. She needed him.

Captain Austen and Lieutenant Manchester were both spinning their
wheels trying to catch him. The Navy had taught him well. He could avoid anyone
who wanted to stop his important work. They didn’t understand his mission, the
good he was doing on behalf of all of them. Hunting these women was a noble
act. When they were in his possession, he showed them their failings, cut the
darkness out of them, and each of them had bowed before him. He’d told each of
his wives he loved them, but only fear reflected in their eyes.

He would take his time with Kayla, far longer than he took with the
others. She was special, and he knew she wouldn’t break easily, but he would
persevere until she did. As life left her, he would gaze into her defiant eyes
and watch the blood drain from her body. He’d collect every precious drop. Kayla
was wickedly beautiful, and she would be his prize for all the hard work he had
done to rid the base of the women who walked among them with only betrayal in
mind. Soon, his fellow combatants would thank him for disciplining these women.

Instead of driving Kayla back to the apartment, Mace turned his car,
and headed for the entrance to the base. Mace, with his sharp sniper eyes,
noticed him. Kayla leaned forward, and they both waved.

He smiled and waved back. “Patience,” he murmured to himself.

His mind whirled with frenzied possibilities. So fair. So immoral. He
twisted the key and pulled out a few cars behind them to follow. Maybe today
would be his lucky day, and Kayla, the lost lamb, would break from her pack. He
would be waiting.

Of all the women who’d betrayed him, Kayla needed him the most. Her
penance would redeem her, and she would never beguile a man again. He would
skin the beauty from her, and leave the world with an image of what she truly
was: deceitful, evil.

Chapter One

 
“What the hell is it with you
two?” Mace griped, taking her bag, and tossing it in the backseat. “Every time
you and the Captain have a fight, he takes it out on us. I ended up being
volunteered to the MTS
Master Training
Specialist
on the Grinder today working with a Phase One class, sweating
bullets out my ass.”

Mace always picked her up, no matter what shift she worked, and drove
her back to his place, which was ridiculous. He lived on the base, and within
steps of Base Command, but those were his orders.

“If you’re talking about the overbearing egomaniac we all call Captain
Austen, ask him.” She jumped in next to Mace, her mood morphing into a healthy
case of cranky, knowing she had to face her small cell for the evening, aka
Mace’s apartment. “Take me home, my home.”

“Nuuu, Kayla,” he said, knowing he’d be swimming to the Mexican border
and back if he didn’t follow the Captain’s orders.

“Then let’s go out for dinner.”

“You sayin’ something’s wrong with my cooking?”

“No. It’s my turn to cook tonight.” Cooking was the last thing on her
mind, but she was starving. She’d been too darn angry to eat after seeing Miss
Sweater-too-tight sidling her perfect cosmopolitan figure against Thane. Carrie
Watson, their new admin assistant, was turning up the heat. She could almost smell
the sexual vapors coming off the woman. After Karen had been fired, Kayla hoped
for a sixty-plus, tight-bunned, grandmotherly type. No such luck. Carrie had a silkworm
smoothness that made her feel like an old frayed carpet. The woman wore her
sweaters tight to show off her voluptuous “D” cups, and she constantly draped
them in front of Thane.

“Afternoon, sir.” Mace waved at someone sitting in one of the parked
cars, and she leaned forward, adding her own wave. Driving slowly past the
gatehouse at the entrance to the base, and giving the guard a nod, Mace turned
onto the Strand headed for town. “I’ve only got so much finesse in the kitchen,
and you’ve had my spaghetti five times already.”

“Then let’s go to Old Town. I need something hot.”

Mace curled a brow, reaching for his phone. “Since when?”

“Don’t you dare call him, just drive.”

“Kayla, he’s gonna wig out.”

“I don’t care what he does—drive.”

Of course, Mace called him anyway. The traffic was heavy on the
Coronado Bridge, and they followed a school bus filled with youngsters bouncing
in their seats. Since time immemorial, kids waved at passing cars out the back
of big yellow buses, and she waved back.

“He wants to talk to you,” Mace said, holding out his phone.

“I don’t want to talk to him.” She crossed her arms, and stared out
the side window looking out over the bay.

“Sir, why am I stuck in the middle of this?” Mace asked, changing
lanes trying to get away from the fumes of the bus. “So, let me get this right.
I’m going on a date with your girlfriend.” Mace quickly pulled the phone from
his ear.

“Give me that.” She brought it to her ear once the hollering stopped.
“Are you finished yelling at Mace?”

“Kayla, just give me thirty minutes, and I’ll take you for dinner. I’m
just giving…somebody a hand.”

“Giving who a hand?”

“Baby, thirty minutes.”

“Giving who a hand?” she pressed, her senses beginning to torque.
Thane wasn’t the only one with ESP. He sounded…wrong.

The wind from the ocean whistled through the phone. “I’m helping
someone with a flat. I’ll be done in a few minutes.”

“Who?”
She knew the damn answer
already.

“Miss Watson has a flat. I’ll be done here—”

The burn of jealousy in her belly flared to ignition like the hot
flash on a fighter jet. She slammed the disconnect button, and smashed the
phone on the dashboard.

“Hey, stand down girlfriend, that’s government property, ya know.”
Mace snatched it away from her. “What the hell is the matter with you these
days? You’re like a harpy from hell.”

Her gaze whipped to the window. Tears welled, and her guts squeezed so
tight she felt like throwing up. The woman probably let the air out of her own tire.
“I want to go home, Mace. Now!”

Mace’s phone rang. “Commander…sorry, Captain, Kayla wants to go home.”
He paused. “Don’t think that’s going to happen, sir.” Mace paused again, chancing
a careful look at her. “Because she’s crying.”

She didn’t even think before giving Mace a hard whack. Not that it
would hurt him with muscles rolling off his broad shoulders like Popeye.
Swiping a tear away, she grilled him with a look for squealing.

“She’s causing me bodily harm,” he added. “Yes, sir. We’re going to
Old Town,” which earned him another glare. “Yes, sir. Yes, sir.”

Mace said it four more times, and she knew he was getting a mouthful
of instructions about how to situate. How to make safe. How to strategize. Mace
had been a SEAL for ten years, with a million dollars of training invested in
him, along with specializing as a Sniper. He didn’t need a preschooler’s
version of taking care of a prisoner, which is what she was these days. Mace
rolled his eyes and said, “Yes, sir,” a final time then hung up. “Kayla, come
on, he just wants you to be safe.” Mace squeezed her shoulder, then swiped a
finger against her cheek.

“I am safe. You’ve all been treating me like some precious artifact. I
hate it.”

Mace caught a break coming off the bridge, and changed lanes,
overtaking several cars trudging their way home. “The Shark still has you in
his line of sight. If he finds a breach in the fence, he’s going to go for it.
Until we find him, you’re under lockdown, Snow White. So give the Captain a
break—Shit!”

Mace’s hand shot out, grabbed the back of her neck, and yanked her
toward him. The horrific sound of glass, metal and good luck, shattered, as a
truck smashed into the passenger side of his car. She heard herself scream, a
ripping pain tore down her side, and darkness enveloped her as fate stepped in
to make a decision.

* * * *

Waking up was hard to do, but she pulled herself from the plane of gray
hearing Mace call her name.

“Don’t move, Kayla.”

Before opening her eyes, she shifted, waiting for any extreme damage
to make itself known. Reaching to her left, she found Mace’s arm, and slid down
to his wrist, stopping on his pulse.

“Stay still for a second. I’ll get you out of here,” Mace ordered,
sounding like a SEAL instead of her best friend.

She opened her eyes and blinked. What a mess! Glass and twisted bits
of metal sat on her lap, and across the crumpled dash. Her door bowed inward,
leaving zero room. Mace gently swept the glass from her legs. She turned her
head, and poked herself on a sharp piece of metal only inches from her temple.

“Whoa, close one.”

People gathered around the car, and a guy stuck his head in her
window.

“Back off,” Mace growled, leveling his sig only inches from the guy’s
face.

“Hey, man, I’m just trying to help,” the young guy said. “Easy.”

He looked like he’d just come from the beach, and he went cross-eyed
looking into the end of the barrel. Mace kept the weapon steady until the guy
backed off. “Put that away, Mace.”

“Kayla, are you all right?” he asked, stashing the weapon in his waistband.

“Think so. What the hell hit us?”

“Truck.”

“Where is it?”

“Gone,” he unsnapped her seatbelt, and then eased out of the car,
swiping away the debris. “Are you sure you’re all right?”

“Yeah, help me get out of here.” She shimmied over the console, and
Mace pulled her the rest of the way out.

Standing outside the vehicle, she surveyed the damage. Mace was on his
phone for a couple seconds, and then hung up. The wail of police sirens echoed
off the buildings. Twisting her neck, she kept the moan inside as the stiffness
set in. Ultra-fine pieces of glass stuck to her shirt, glittering under the
sun, and she plucked at the fabric, shaking them off her. Mace checked her
right arm, peppered with bloody nicks, but nothing to worry about, in her
opinion. “Where’s the other vehicle, Mace?”

“Don’t know, let’s find out.” They approached the mob on the street who
stared at them.

A young couple, holding hands approached. “Are you guys okay?” the
girl asked.

“We’re good,” Mace assured them. “Did you see it happen?”

They both nodded. “That truck was huge, one of those jacked-up deals.
If I didn’t know better, I’d say he was aiming for you. He picked up speed
going into the intersection,” the girl said.

“Can you give me a description,” Mace asked.

“Think that’s my job.”

They turned to see two cops standing behind them.

“You can hear it at the same time,” Mace fired back.

Three cars came screeching to a halt. The Captain and the rest of the
team vaulted from the vehicles.

“Jesus, what happened?” Thane roared, giving the car a quick once-over.
With two more steps, he was in front of her, examining every square inch.
“Stitch?”

Caleb touched her arm. “I’m fine, Stitch.” Of course, he didn’t listen,
and worked his way up from her ankles, squeezing and prodding. It wasn’t until
he got to her right shoulder that he hit a tender spot.

“Where’s the vehicle that hit you, Mace?” Thane asked, keeping his
eyes on her.

“Just trying to figure that out, sir,” Mace responded quickly.

The rest of the team circled them. The younger cop surveyed the group.
The older cop, maybe in his forties, took an authoritative step forward. “How
about if everyone backs off for a second so we can investigate?”

Thane ignored him. “Sweetheart, maybe you should sit down.”

“I’m okay, a little shaken, but good.”

A huge intake of breath expanded his chest, and he leaned his forehead
against hers. Being a Captain never leaves a man just because he steps off the
base. His domineering presence had everyone waiting on him. Not caring that everyone
looked on, he dipped his head and kissed her gently on the lips.

“Kayla, you need to go to the hospital,” Stitch said.

“What?” she and Thane said at the same time.

Caleb prodded her right shoulder. “It got twisted a little, it’ll be
fine.”

A spurt of laughter erupted from him. “You know, if we had guys with
your pain threshold, we’d be a super race of SEALs.” He glanced at the Captain
and back at her. “Kayla, your right shoulder is completely dislocated.”

She tried to tilt her head to see it, but a sharp jab caused her to
stop. “Aw, dammit, not again.” The shock of the accident had her adrenaline
pumping, but the nerve endings were starting to come alive with the familiar
aching pulse.

“Not—again,” Thane said, lowering his chin, giving her a stern look.

“Lost count,” she sighed. “Fine, put it back in, Caleb.”

Caleb shook his head sharply. “No, Kayla, you’re going to the hospital
for X-rays, and then the doc can reset it.”

“Nooo,” she bleated. “You know how to put it back. Do it.” Cranky
Kayla was making an appearance. “I’m hungry. I don’t want to go to the
hospital.”

Caleb shrugged. “Don’t you dare,” Thane warned.

“We’ll go see the paramedics,” she said, inching away. Thane clamped
onto her left arm. “No, you won’t. Stay here where I can watch you.”

“Need to go to the hospital, right?”

“Stay.” Thane was still in his uniform, and the cop eyed him. “Give me
a SITREP, Mace, what happened?”

The cop raised his hand, but Thane ignored him.

“Came at us from the right side of the intersection. This woman says
she thinks the truck picked up speed instead of braking.”

Thane turned his attention to the couple. “Ma’am, can you tell us what
he looked like?”

She took a step closer with her boyfriend in tow. “Sorry, the windows
were tinted. I couldn’t see who was driving.”

“What about a plate?”

“Didn’t see it,” the boyfriend said, finding his voice. “I looked. He
backed up as soon as he hit them, and headed west.”

“What type of truck, son?” the cop asked, seeing he was going to have
to join in versus take control.

“Dodge Ram,” the boyfriend said, “Black, two-door, short box on the
back.”

“Any previous damage, identifying marks?” the cop asked, writing in
his pad. “Was he alone in the vehicle?”

“Don’t remember any other marks. I only saw one shadow inside the
vehicle,” the boyfriend added.

The ambulance attendants wandered up, one with a kit in his hand.
“Ma’am, can I have a look at your arm?” he asked, seeing her support it.

She didn’t need him yanking on her. “I know it’s dislocated.”